


flotation device

by scorpionGrass



Series: you can’t put a price on peace (of mind) [10]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Shinra Company, post-Rocket Town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass
Summary: The Tiny Bronco’s wheels still work. Maybe that’s a blessing.akaCid Highwind sits in the pilot’s seat of the Tiny Bronco and wonders exactly what he did to deserve being grouped in with the numbskulls who tried to escape with his plane.
Series: you can’t put a price on peace (of mind) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363234
Kudos: 18





	flotation device

There’s nothing more that Cid loves than the sound of a running engine, purring under the hood of his plane as he flies peacefully through the air and gets some much needed alone time. Away from broken dreams, away from Shera, away from the prying eyes of every kind person in Rocket Town who dared to pity him like he was already half into the grave.

But thanks to a bunch of numbskulls, the Tiny Bronco can’t do anything but float in the shallows.

“I thought planes were supposed to, y’know,  _ fly _ ?”

Cid glances up at the legs dangling down from the wing, swinging back and forth with bright orange sneakers caked with mud. The kid again, he figures.

“Well that was the plan,” one of the older girls says. The one with dark hair, sitting on the lower part of the left wing, hand half-dipped into the ocean water as they surf along. “Shin-Ra definitely threw a wrench in that.”

More like a few bullets. Three hours it’s been. Three hours since the shoot-out in his own damn backyard, with Rufus Shinra trying to force a deal while the rest of them tried to steal the Tiny Bronco out from under his nose.

This is what he gets for serving tea to prying strangers, no matter how young or innocent or pretty they are (but they were a welcome new sight after all the years he’s spent in Rocket Town, with the same people, the same scenery, the same tilted rocketship that taunts him with all his failures).

“Y’all got us shot down like they was duck hunting,” Cid grumbles, chewing on the end of a cigarette. He’s checked his pockets three times over for a lighter at this point, but each time he comes up empty. “You’re lucky they only had that dumb fuck Palmer with ‘em.”

“Lucky is one way to put it.”

It’s the blonde who speaks this time from the girl’s side, a sword too broad for his shoulders resting across his lap. He’s using ocean water to wipe it down, but it’s already showing wear and tear from rust. Cid doesn’t doubt there’s still blood from their last battle too, and wonders exactly what kind of ex-SOLDIER doesn’t take proper care of his weapons.

“Palmer has survived much longer than I thought he would.”

It’s the cryptid again, the one the kid keeps telling to sit down. Cid grimaces, looking up at the right wing and imagining the red cape billowing in the wind. He’s still perplexed as to how any of these people are connected. Especially him, with the metal gauntlet and armoured shoes like he was something out of a medieval opera.

“Fucker should croak like the rest of ‘em.”

Gun-arm is the loudest of them, with as dirty a mouth as Cid himself. In some strange way, he already feels like they’ll get along great together. Especially if he lets Cid take a look at the heat he’s packing. He’s popped part of the case open to fiddle with the wires, a concentrated furrow between his brows.

The party falls silent again, as they’ve done so many times.

The only one who has stayed mostly quiet is the girl sitting with gun-arm. She plays with the end of her braid, inspecting her split ends. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. Her eyes are glazed over, lips ever so slightly downturned, but she smiles brightly whenever she’s addressed.

Then there are the animals. The cat is sleeping on the girl’s lap and Red (or at least, that’s what the kid keeps calling him) is up on top.

“Do we even know where we’re going?”

Cid rolls his eyes. She’s one obnoxious kid.

“Wherever the shallows take us,” Cid says, shifting the wheel a bit to accommodate the resistance. “Which… is probably Wutai.”

The island crests on the horizon, the mountainous areas reaching up into the clouds. It’s not an ideal place to go, but it’s better than going where Shin-Ra will be. The main continents aren’t exactly safe, and it’s one way to get them off their tails.

“Wutai, hm?” says the cryptid.

“Stop looking at me funny! It’s creeping me out…” says the kid.

“Wutai…” The blonde looks up from his sword, frown on his lips. “It’s been a while.”

“Where’ve you not been, SOLDIER?” Gun-arm asks, looking up from the wires in his arm. “You serve there?”

“You could say that,” he responds, but the girl beside him gives him a strange look.

Cid’s got no doubt they have some story, all of them complicated and confusing, but he’s hardly interested in that right now. He just wants to get out of the pilot’s seat and crack his spine and change out of his wet, squelching shoes. Plane’s been slowly filling up with water and it’s getting cold and uncomfortable.

And Wutai’s got some damn good tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Cid's too damn tired for this shit.


End file.
